


Father Dearest

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drug Use, Explicit Language, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Out of Character, Romance, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Suspense, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-30 05:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10154237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Draco writes a letter to his father explaining his true feelings toward blood purity and the Dark Lord. What if Draco made a drastic decision and Hermione was the only who could help him? Will she put her hatred aside and try to save her worst enemy?"Lying at Hermione's feet, was the first letter that Draco had written to his father. She didn't want to read it—she was a Gryffindor and a prefect, but she just couldn't help herself. She was curious as to what kind of relationship Malfoy had with Malfoy senior. Little did she know, that a single piece of parchment, would change her entire life."A dark D/Hr romance.





	1. A Drastic Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 

**Warnings:** This is story deals with the tragedy of teen **suicide** and contains various adult themes, as well as graphic images, including **self-mutilation** and **MAJOR ANGST**. It also features a very dark/abused Draco. Please be warned ahead of time. In future chapters, this story will also contain sexual situations, adult language, drug and alcohol abuse, as well violence. I will make sure to list warnings in each chapter. This will be a dark/angsty Draco/Hermione romance.

**Author's Note:** In the Father Dearest universe, only the events through GOF are cannon. This story goes AU after year 4, but Voldemort is still gaining power and followers. Non-compliant with the events of OTTP, HPB, and DH. This is my first D/Hr and dark story, so please be nice.

*************************************************************************************

**_Father Dearest_ **

By: Red Headed Slut

**Note:** This takes place during the hp gang's 6th year at Hogwarts. Voldemort is back in power and Draco is supposed to join him on his 16th birthday. Both Draco and Hermione are prefects in this story. Also, in this story, Draco's birthday is not June 5th, but December 31st instead.

 

Enjoy and don't forget to read and review!

**~Chapter 1: A Drastic Decision~**

Draco Malfoy took out a piece of parchment and let out a loud sigh. Luckily, he was the only one in his dormitory right now. As he charmed his "special" quill to write in none other than his own blood, he contemplated his desolate life. To the outside world, it appeared that he had everything, but still, he couldn't help but feel inadequate and desperate. To make matters worse, Draco couldn't get the words out of his head that damn Mudblood had said to him last week. The nerve of that utter cow; still, they were all so true and constantly invaded his mind.

Now, they even flooded through his body like poison. Yes, his blood was filled with poison— a deadly poison that he could never escape, a poison that would eventually overtake him if he didn't do something to remove it. His time was running out; he needed to remove it desperately, but he wasn't sure what to do. After many hours of long contemplation, he finally decided to go ahead with the plan he had been preparing for the last week. Yes, for the first time ever... Draco Malfoy was finally going to take control of his own life. He was going to be a man, make his own decisions, and follow through on his plan, no matter what obstacles he had to defeat. The first step of his plan involved writing a letter to his father. Draco being Draco, and always a touch too melodramatic, decided that he needed to write this letter in his own blood. He figured that his father would appreciate the added effect and vulgar sentiment. After all, no matter what the circumstances, Malfoys always went out with a bang.

* * *

_Dear Father,_

_I'm writing to tell you how I always felt. Yes, I know that I am a Malfoy and Malfoys aren't supposed to feel, but Father, I'm tired of not feeling. I'm tired of failing you in every way imaginable. I always try to please you and do everything you say._

_Still, you punish me._

_I don't think anyone deserves to be hit and abused so many times the way I am. I'm sorry I went into your office and dropped your Pensieve, but did you really have to whip me with your studded belt just to make your point? You just watched the blood flow down my back; you didn't care that I winced with pain when you struck me. You actually hit me harder when I cried in pain and agony. What kind of father treats his son in this wretched manner?_

_I'm sorry that I am not like you, Father. I try my best to hide my emotions, but sometimes I just can't. I know you've always taught me to only value the finer things in life, but that's not who I am. Believe it or not, Father, I sometimes enjoy the simple things in life. Did you know that I like to watch the sunset, Father?_

_Of course you didn't, because according to you, watching the sunset is only something **"weak"** people do, not Malfoys. I have tried to do everything you ask of me. You hate Muggles and Mudbloods, and you have taught me to do the same. You have taught me all the qualities I needed to be a good Slytherin, and I have become one for you._

_Do you know how nervous I was when the Sorting Hat fell over my eyes? I thought I would disgrace you by being put into Hufflepuff, but luckily, I wasn't. The Sorting Hat told me I didn't have a pure enough heart to be in any other house other than Slytherin. Do you know why that is, Father?_

_It's because of you._

_You have always been so cold to me that I tried to mimic you. At first, it was difficult, but I soon learned that it's always easier to hide emotions than face them. Both you and Mother ignored me and never embraced me in a hug or told me you loved me. Of course, Mother hugged me a few times, but that was in front of company to make it seem like she was a caring, loving parent; she's not and you aren't either._

_I know you are probably going to laugh when you read this, but all I ever wanted was for you to love me. Yes, I know that in your eyes, love is just foolish Hufflepuffish sentiment or even worse Gryffindor foolhardiness, but I can't help myself. I didn't expect you to tell me, but I wanted to feel loved. You don't understand, Father, that everything I have ever done in my life has been in a vain attempt to gain your love. I even stopped being friends with people that weren't purebloods because you wanted me to. What if I lost the possible love of my life and future mother of my children just because I was too thick to see through her supposed "polluted" blood?_

_You don't care about those things, Father. You don't care about my happiness or well-being. All you care about is keeping up appearances and blood. But you know what, Father? I think, **no** —I **know** that you are wrong. **ALL** the people who are purebloods are just ignorant fools, and I include myself when I say that._

_I don't know how to feel anymore; I can barely even feel pain. In fact, I embrace it. Now, when you hit me, the pain is not so intense. Besides, I feel like I deserve pain and nothing more._

_Intense and constant pain..._

_Did you know that when I bathe the hot water burns my scars? The pain is so intense, that sometimes I feel like I'm going to faint. Actually, I have fainted a couple of times. Yes, I know that you are appalled because your only son is such a sodding little pansy, but I can't help it. Sometimes, I'm afraid I just don't have what it takes and others I'm afraid that I'm going mad._

_You don't understand, Father; I actually enjoy watching the blood trickle down my body. It forms such beautiful clumps in the shower, staining my hair a lustrous scarlet and cascading down the drain in large clusters._

_It doesn't matter to me that when I awaken, I'm lying in a pool of my own blood. No, I feel relieved, refreshed even, that some of the poison, a toxin of your own design, Father, is leaving my body. I'm fucked up, Father— a bloody fucking mess— and it's all your fault. There I said it. Your only son is a fuck-up and a failure and I blame you._

_It's always been **you** , Father._

_Everything is about you and every time I watch the blood trickle down my arms, especially when I use your precious monogrammed athame to relieve myself, I find a twisted sense of poetic justice using your favorite knife to release my pain. I then pray that I drown, that I falter down the drain like the blood, like the water, like the poison._

_You know what though, I never do. Some stupid house-elves always come by and save me and clean up the mess. They tell you nothing of it because they are afraid of your reaction. They're afraid you might kill them. I however, am not afraid of death. I think death is another natural part of life._

_Death seems very peaceful compared to this._

_Do I believe in an afterlife? No, but it doesn't matter. Anything—even nothingness— would be better than this. You just don't understand, Father. You never have and you probably never will, but I want to **feel** , Father. I don't know what loves is. I don't know what happiness is. I don't know what fun is. The only emotion I know is **HATE!**_

_That is the only thing you have ever taught me. You taught me how to hate, how to be evil, but I don't want to be cold and unfeeling like you, Father. I want to feel emotions, both happiness and pain. I've had more than enough pain in my life._

_When will the happiness come?_

_I'm afraid to see what my future holds. I am nearing my 16th birthday and I know that you will want me to become a Death Eater, but I just can't. Voldemort is your Lord, not mine. I always thought that Malfoys bowed down to no one. Well, at least that's what Grandfather always said. I know we're not supposed to talk about him, but I miss him dearly. Everything changed since his death, especially you, Father. Before Grandfather's death you were a different person. I barely recognize you anymore._

_But my decision has nothing to do with you. Okay, that's a lie, it has everything to do with you, but for once in my life, it's my choice and no matter what, I'm sticking by it. Father, I know that I have always failed you in every way. I was never top of my class. I was always second best, well except in Potions, but that was because Snape favored me. Although I trained so hard, I'm still not a good Seeker. Once again, I'm only second best._

_I hate to admit this, but Potter could beat me with both hands tied behind his back. You know what else, Father? I don't really hate Potter the way you and the other Death Eaters do. Actually, I don't hate him at all. When I first met him, I actually liked him, but then he tried to show me up. He thinks that's why I started to despise him, but that's not true. If anything, I respect him for confronting me, but I knew that you wouldn't let me be friends with him because he's a half-blood and a Muggle-lover. Although his mother was supposedly the brightest witch in her class, you probably still only saw her as a filthy Mudblood._

_Why is blood so important to you?_

_The only good people I know do not have pure blood._

_I don't deserve to be your son, and I know that. You have threatened to disown me plenty of times. Sometimes, I really wish you would. I'd be nothing on the street, and I'd probably die of hunger. So what? Nobody cares about me, no one ever has. I always lie in bed and drown myself in my own sorrow. I used to cry myself to sleep at night. Pathetic I know, trust me... I know that I'm a horrid little shite, but that still didn't keep me from crying myself to sleep. I was a "weak" child and couldn't help myself._

_I remember a night not too long ago, when I was about 8 years old. You caught me crying into my pillows, you grabbed me out of bed and started slapping me. You roughed me up until I stopped crying. You always told me crying wasn't allowed. Crying was a weakness, but you know what? I want to cry, Father! I'm weak, I always have been. If I weren't so weak, maybe I'd be able to stand up to you. If I weren't so weak, maybe I'd try to let my emotions show. Maybe I wouldn't be so cruel to anyone who tries to get remotely close to me._

_I always chase people away because I'm afraid of being hurt. I also believe that I don't deserve to be loved. You told me that once, Father, when I was a little boy— and little boys— always believe their fathers._

__

* * *

Draco's quill paused over the paper as tears blocked his vision. He set the quill down and put his hands in his face. No matter how painful it was, he couldn't help but relive that night.

***flashback***

*

"Daddy! Daddy, you're home."

A short blond boy, wearing dark green dress robes, which were far too long for him, squealed in excitement as he ran over and engorged his father in a tight embrace. Lucius Malfoy was surprised by his son's overzealousness and wasn't sure how to respond. He awkwardly patted young Draco on his back.

"Nice to see you too, son, and please show some respect; call me Father," the taller man finally responded, his voice like ice.

"Yes, dad— I mean, Father," a young Draco squeaked. The child paused for a second before staring at his father with glassy, silver eyes.

"Father?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"Did you know I love you?"

Lucius Malfoy was stunned; he definitely was not expecting his son to bear his soul to him. The older man didn't know how to answer. "Yes, son, " he finally responded.

After what felt like an eternity to the young boy, but in reality was only a few seconds, young Draco bit his lip and bravely asked his father the question he needed desperately answered.

"Do you love me too, Father?"

Once again, Lucius was flabbergasted. Much like his son, he bit his own lower lip and looked down at his son with confused, steely eyes. He was about to respond when young Draco slipped and actually stepped on the back of his father's robes, tearing them loudly.

"Oops!" the red-faced child shrieked.

Lucius could feel the blood flushing to his own pale cheeks, but unlike his son who was flushed with embarrassment, Lucius was emblazoned with anger.

"Clumsy, insolent boy!" he chided. "You almost ruined my brand new dress robes. I paid many galleons for these robes."

The small blond child hung his head and refused to meet the taller man's hard gaze. His eyes were laced with unshed tears that he was desperately trying to hold back.

"Sorry, Father," he said, his small voice barely audible.

"Don't interrupt me again, boy," he spat.

Draco was about to open his mouth again, but wisely closed it and stared at the floor again.

"Love is something that has to be earned. Do you feel that you earned my love, Draco? Not everyone is worthy of being loved; many aren't, especially bratty, insolent children that don't know their place," Lucius snarled and glared at the now stunned Draco.

"But Father-"

"Bloody hell! I told you not to interrupt, you impertinent brat. Now you will have to be punished!"

"NO!" The small boy shrieked and dropped to his knees. "Please Father, NO! Not again. I'll be good. I promise," he pleaded, tugging on his father's now destroyed robes.

The older man didn't even acknowledge the young boy's pleas. He turned his chin up aristocratically and didn't even bother looking at Draco when he spoke to him.

"Yes, you are unworthy to be called my son. Don't look at me, " he spat.

"And get yourself together for Merlin's sake. Malfoys do not cry. It's unbecoming, Draco. You know this."

Now crying hysterically, young Draco turned away from his father and stared at the floor in a feeble attempt of containing his emotions. After giving Draco a few minutes to contain himself, Lucius unwound his dragon hide studded belt from his slender waist. He held it high in the air and brought it down sharply across his young son's already scarred back. Lucius let the belt sail through the air many, many times. Once he felt that Draco had been adequately punished, he locked him in his room for two whole days with no meals. Once locked in his room, young Draco banged his head against the door repeatedly, completely horrified at the prospect of spending two whole days entirely alone. Behind his door, he heard voices.

"Lucius, don't you think that you are being a bit harsh on young Draco?" a familiar and sweet voice inquired. It was Emily, Draco's governess and Lucius's personal assistant/playmate for all intents and purposes.

"No! He needs to be punished. He has to learn not to disrespect the authority, which in this case is me and that's final," Lucius growled and Draco whimpered from behind the door. He had never heard his father use that tone of voice with Emily. He desperately hoped that Emily wouldn't be punished by Lucius too. Emily was much too pretty to have scars and bruises like Draco's. No, his father wouldn't do that. It wasn't right to hit ladies; his mother had always taught him that. Just in case, young Draco got up from the floor and threw himself on his bed. He didn't want to get caught eavesdropping too.

* 

***End of flashback***

* * *

Draco wiped his bright eyes on his sleeve. He tried to push that memory as far back in his mind as he could. When he had collected himself, he dipped his quill in the makeshift inkwell and proceeded. He needed to finish his letter quickly before the blood ink started to clot.

* * *

_That was the first and last time I told you that I loved you._

_From that moment on, I knew that I wasn't worthy of being loved. I don't deserve to be loved or even embraced. I definitely don't deserve to be someone's everything. I'm going to end up a miserable old man without a friend in the world. I can see my future now, just another tawdry headline in the gossip pages: **'Malfoy Heir Shames Family: the only Male Spinster'.**_

_No, you would never let that happen._

_I'll probably be forced to marry some wealthy, vapid slag, who I won't care a thing about. I'll be forced to have a child with her so there will be a Malfoy heir and my life will be ruined. Actually, my life will be ruined way before that. I know that you will force me to become a Death Eater, and I don't have the strength to deny becoming one. I'm so cold; the venom that courses through my veins feels like ice sometimes. It's probably because that's how I feel inside. I don't want to be cold anymore. I don't want to suffer anymore. I don't even want to try to fight for the approval that I lost a long time ago._

_I want to tell you that **I HATE YOU** because you ruined my life, but I can't. You've taken everything away from me: my happiness, my future, my faith, and my whole life but still I don't hate you. I just can't. I'm not like you, who can hate so easily. I don't hate; the only person I hate is Voldemort! I hate him so much it eats me up inside! He took you away from me; maybe if he weren't your master, you'd spend more time with me. Perhaps you'd even love me. No, probably not. Who am I kidding? I would be a disappointment to you no matter what the circumstances._

_As you can see, this parchment is stained with nothing other than my own tears. Yes, Father, I did cry and I admit it openly too. Now you have all that I have left to give, all of me, Father— my blood, tears, and soul. There's nothing left to give and I just can't serve Voldemort._

_Like I said before, he is your master, not mine! I can't deal with this horrible life anymore. I wish that I had never been born. Nobody loves me; nobody would care if I died. Actually, I know a couple of people, mostly Hufflepuffs of course, that would probably celebrate and throw a party because I died. Well, at least I'll be able to make someone happy._

_Anyway, I have let both you and the rest of the world down. I can't go on living this way; I'd rather die than become a servant to Voldemort. And that's what I'm going to do. When I get home to the manor for Christmas holidays, I will kill myself on Christmas Eve._

_I'm sorry I displeased you so much, but you're young...so, go ahead and have another child, another son. I hope that he will be worthy to be called your son. I am sorry for all the pain and aggravation I have caused you. I promised myself that I would never say these words to you again, but by the time you read this, I will be gone... It doesn't matter anymore._

_Okay, I love you, Father. There, I said it._

_Whoever would've thought that three little words could be so hard to say? I know that you probably don't feel the same, and I don't expect anything in return. All I want, is that when you start your new life, please save a little spot in your memory for Draco Malfoy, your first son._

_Farewell, Father._

_Please apologize and send my love to Mother and Emily. I just couldn't bear writing any more letters and I ran out of blood ink. This is really it. Goodbye forever._

_My Warmest Wishes,_

_**Draco Lucius Malfoy** _

__

* * *

Draco folded the letter and put it in his special box. He wasn't really going to give his father that letter. He would put it in his box where he put all the other letters he's written, but never sent. This box held several letters to his father, one to his mother, a letter to Potter, a letter to Granger, and a few others. Draco was still planning to kill himself tomorrow night after his mother's Christmas party. Actually, he planned to kill himself on the stroke of midnight. He managed to purchase a rather sleek muggle weapon.

What was its name again? Oh wait, a gun, that's its name.

With this gun, Draco would hold it up to his head and pull the trigger. The shady character he bought it from assured him that it would work. He explained that it would be messy, but nonetheless effective. Draco figured it would be a fitting ending, poetic justice, and of course as Father always told him: "Malfoys always go out with a bang". Draco was definitely going to "go out with a bang". Perhaps his Father would finally be pleased.

The lanky blond closed his box of unsent letters and then sat down at his desk, to quickly scrawl another letter, a better one.

 

*********************************************************************

_Dear Father,_

_How are you? I hope that you are in fine health and spirits. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same. I am not okay, Father. I cannot deal with life anymore. It's getting too hard, and I dread my future. I cannot become a Death Eater. I rather die than become one. So, that's what I plan to do, die. I'm sorry for not being a good son to you. You can have another son, a better one, one more like you. Please do me one last favor, and give my love to Mother and Emily._

_Best Regards,_

_**Draco L. Malfoy** _

 

********************************************************************

* * * 

Draco folded up the new letter and stuffed it in an envelope. Yes, that would be a better letter to give to his father. He put that letter on his nightstand and went to bed. This would be the last time he slept in his bed at Hogwarts. For some reason, he wasn't even sad.

The next morning, Draco left the Slytherin dormitory early. He wanted to go on his last morning run before he left Hogwarts permanently. Crabbe and Goyle woke up late as usual and went looking for Draco.

"Uh, he's not in his bed, Vincent," Goyle said. "Where do you think he is?"

"I don't know, Greg. What am I, his bloody keeper?" Crabbe replied.

"No, I didn't mean that. For Merlin's sake, you don't have to snap at me," Goyle spat and pretended to be mildly offended.

"Okay, I'm sorry, Greg. Look, I'm just really hungry. This new diet is driving me mad," he responded and briefly paused to lock eyes with the other boy. "I know Draco wants us to lose weight, so we'll be faster on our broomsticks," he continued, "but I just can't take it anymore," replied a contrite looking Crabbe.

"Aww, poor baby," cooed Goyle. He playfully pinched his secret boyfriend's shoulder and then kissed him chastely after double-checking that they were truly alone.

"Mmmmm..." Crabbe moaned. "What did I do to deserve that? You're awfully sweet today, Greg. What did I do to deserve this?"

"Oh nothing," the taller boy responded. "I'm just a sweet bloke, what can I say? Besides, you've been working so hard. I think you deserve a little sugar. Since Draco isn't here, why don't we go through his sweets and nick a couple before he gets back?"

Vincent's chocolate eyes brightened significantly and he smiled as widely as a child who was told Christmas had come early.

"That sounds like a brilliant plan, Gregory. We just have to make sure we don't get caught. Why don't you look in his trunk and I'm going to check in his secret stash that he thinks we don't know about."

Gregory Goyle smiled mischievously at his boyfriend, while asking, "What stash is that, Vinny?"

"Under his bed of course. Seriously, Greg, you would be lost without me." The taller boy leaned in for another kiss and this time it lasted just a bit longer.

"I know," he responded coyly after breaking their kiss. "Now find me some sweets, you wanker."

Goyle rummaged through the disaster that Draco had growing under his bed and pulled out an all too familiar wooden box. He had found Draco's box of unsent letters. As Greg attempted to open it with clumsy fingers, Vincent slapped his hands.

"Don't touch that, Gregory! You know Draco will kill us if he finds out we went through his things. Besides, knowing Draco, it's probably cursed with a bunch of nasty hexes."

"You're right, Vinny. I'll just put this back where I found it," Greg said.

"What are you, mental? You'll probably just activate the hexes. Just put it back on his bed and we'll blame it on Nott or something. Okay?" interrupted Crabbe.

Goyle didn't look convinced, but he followed his boyfriend's advice anyway. While he placed the box on Draco's bed, his boyfriend playfully pinched his arse and Goyle didn't even realize he had knocked the box open, when he ran after Crabbe and left their dormitory. 

Now, Draco's box of unsent letters was sprawled all over the floor, the letters just waiting to be read.

* * * 

**To Be Continued...**

 

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**A/N:** I know that Draco seems too angsty and OCC, but no one takes the idea of suicide lightly; therefore, in order for him to come to such a drastic decision, his mental health and self-esteem need to be completely deteriorated. Still, Draco will undergo a lot of changes through out the story.

Please tell me what you think even if you hate it? Should I continue posting ? I have a couple chapters already completed and will post soon if people like this. I don't have a beta, so please point out any errors that I have missed. If someone wants to volunteer to beta that would be awesome too. Just email me or leave your email in a review and I'll contact you. Thanks.

Cheers.

~ **Red Headed Slut**

 

**Next time:** Hermione finds Draco's letter as well as one addressed to her. How will she react? 

 

*Last thing: I'm posting this story under a different pen name on ff.net. I don't want anyone to be confused if they come across it there.


	2. Letters From No One

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I just wanted to thank everyone who read chapter 1 of my story. Here you have chapter 2 and hopefully you will have chapter 3 soon. I'm going to attempt to update once a week. Again, please let me know what you think, whether it's good or bad. Also, all errors are mine because I don't have a beta right now, so feel free to point out any errors you find. 

Enjoy!

 

 

****

~Chapter 2: Letters from No One~

* * *

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Professor?" asked Hermione.

"I need to speak with you."

"Certainly, what do you need, Professor?”

"Well my dear, the two Slytherin prefects are ill and I need someone to go into all the Slytherin dormitories and make sure everything is in place and that everyone is awake. As you know, The Hogwarts Express will be leaving shortly. Promptly at 11 am."

"Yes, Professor,” Hermione replied reluctantly. She hated the Slytherins, but at least she could yell at them today. Besides, she was rather bored. Much to her dismay, Hermione hadn't gone on an adventure since third year. Harry didn't need her help anymore. He now had his pick of silly bints who surrounded him constantly. Hermione started biting her nails in frustration, but she knew now was not the time to reminisce about Harry. Professor McGonagall had given her a very important task and Hermione was always efficient in completing her tasks, no matter how unpleasant they were.

 

_Besides, maybe I'll be able to get the Slytherins in trouble. That would definitely be a perk._

 

As she walked toward the Slytherin dungeons, she contemplated McGonagall's words. _Ill?_ Malfoy hadn't been ill the last time Hermione had seen him in the library. Perhaps she could expose him for lying and maybe she could even get Malfoy a detention.

 

_That would be brilliant._

 

God, she really hated him. It wasn't in Hermione's kind nature to hate, but something about that _twitchy little ferret_ always drove her mad.

When Hermione walked into the Slytherin common room, she was really quite appalled. Hermione wasn't exactly a "girly girl", who needed everything to be flowers, kittens, and an annoying overload of glitter, but then again, she would still never want to live in such a dreary place. Thank God, she wasn't a Slytherin. 

She would never survive. 

Indeed, the Slytherin common room was chilly and rather uninviting. As soon as she stepped through the portrait hole, the fire had gone out. It was as if the common room knew she was an intruder and decided to try to frighten her. It was very dark and only a small green light was visible; she had never seen such a desolate place in all of Hogwarts and being a prefect, Hermione knew the castle well. _Oh well_ , she sighed. There was nothing she could do about the dreariness anyhow. The Slytherins probably deserved it, since they were such an unsavory lot. 

_Come on Hermione, just keep it together and you can get out of here quickly_ , she muttered to herself.

Without pondering a second negative thought, Hermione put her best authoritative face on, and scurried from dormitory to dormitory making sure everyone was awake and properly packed. She made sure that she yelled at the largest number of Slytherins possible.

_Sometimes, being a prefect was great,_ she smiled to herself.

After she finished checking all the dormitories, Hermione was feeling rather proud of herself. Finally, she decided to go to Malfoy's dormitory. She had saved his for last, so she could expose him for the lying, conniving little ferret that he was. She was surprised to find the room completely barren except for some parchment scattered on the floor. She picked up the papers that appeared to be letters and placed them on what she assumed to be Malfoy's bed. As much as she hated to admit it, Draco Malfoy was smart; he was almost as bookish as she was, and he was a constant presence in all of her advanced lessons. She even had to work with him on several occasions, so she was familiar with the git's handwriting.

Regrettably, there was no doubt in her mind that the scattered letters on the floor were in Malfoy's elegant script. She carefully stacked the letters on his desk and was about to leave when she noticed a stray piece of parchment at her feet. Lying at Hermione's feet was the first letter that Draco had written to his father. She didn't want to read it—she was a Gryffindor and a prefect, but she just couldn't help herself. She was curious as to what kind of relationship Malfoy had with Malfoy senior. Little did she know, that a single piece of parchment would change her entire life.

 

*************************************************************************

 

_Dear Father,_

_I'm writing to tell you how I always felt. I always try to please you and do everything you say. Still, you punish me...  
_

* * *

When Hermione finished reading the letter, she was almost in tears. She couldn't believe that the same slimy git she had hated all these years had written this letter. The Malfoy who wrote this letter was a different Malfoy, a sad boy, Hermione had never seen before. This boy was kind hearted. He was very troubled and all he really needed was a little bit of love. How could she have been so oblivious to the fact that Malfoy acted the way he did for a reason? She knew it had something to do with his father, but she had no idea that he was actually abused. Come to think of it, after every holiday, she had remembered seeing him with bruises. Since Malfoy had always acted so dreadful, she hadn't cared much. She just figured that the wanker had gotten himself in trouble with that foul mouth of his.

He really was a cheeky bastard.

But still, arse or not, Malfoy didn't deserve to be abused. No one deserved to be abused. Not even Malfoy.

_No, not Malfoy...Draco._

The boy that had written those letters, was most definitely— Draco. This Draco, had been abused since he was a child. All he ever wanted was his father's love and approval. Even now, Draco claimed that he still loved his father. Who was this Draco that Hermione had seen in this letter? Was this the _real_ Draco, which nobody ever saw? She couldn't let Draco go ahead and end his life. She had to stop him, but how?

Before she continued with her train of thoughts, a letter on the edge of the bed caught her attention. It was addressed to her, so she didn't feel too guilty reading it.

 

*************************************************************************

 

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hello! Wait, before you tear up this letter, just listen to me first. I want to apologize for the way I've treated you. I never meant to hurt you. Okay, that's a blatant lie. I did mean to hurt you, but not for the reasons you think. It has nothing to do with your heritage or blood. You see, at first I hated you for besting me in all my lessons, but then I got intrigued by a girl that was smarter than even me. Who was this girl? I needed to know you. That's why I started going to the library all the time to do my work, instead of doing it in my common room._

_The first time you slapped and insulted me, I was shocked. No girl has ever insulted let alone slapped me before.  
_

* * *

Hermione took a small break from reading. She had tears in her eyes. She had always hated Draco with a passion and wanted to curse him, but she hadn't known that he was already cursed. She felt horrid for insulting him and slapping him. She remembered one day recently when she had insulted him, and of course, she had to go and mention his father.

* * *

***Flashback***

*

"If it isn't the Mudblood—"

Hermione knew that she should probably just ignore Malfoy and not succumb to his level, but she was not having a good day. Today was not the day to mess with Hermione J. Granger, so she decided to give Malfoy a piece of her mind:

"Draco Malfoy...you think you are so sinister, but you aren't. You act the way you do because of that bastard you have for a father. If I were you, I'd want to kill myself. I bet that you've never experienced any real love in your whole entire life. You are just a rich spoiled brat.

Your parents don't love you, they just buy you things to shut you up. They can't even stand their own son. I thought your father was the coldest cruelest man I had ever met, but I was wrong. The only person that comes close to him is you, Draco Malfoy. You are a cold and unfeeling arsehole! How do you even look at yourself in the mirror? Don't you hate yourself? I know I would, if I were you. I may not be rich, Draco Malfoy, but I rather be dead than ever become cold, arrogant, spoiled, idiotic, and heartless like you."

 

The blond was staring at her, with his mouth agape and his eyes widened as large as an owl, but before he could get a retort in, Hermione continued her tirade.

"You don't have a heart, Draco Malfoy. I don't know how you live with yourself. You don't feel; you only hate! You're just a spoiled rich prat who has this perfect life, but still feels the need to bother others with his petty jealousy. I pity you Malfoy, because no one will ever love you. You might go out and probably sleep with a good number of girls at Hogwarts because of your name and money, but deep down you know it's true that everyone hates you and they always will!"

 

**OOoOo**

Draco was speechless; he always had an acerbic retort on his tongue, but not this time. It was ridiculous, a Mudblood had insulted him, and he didn't have anything to say back. To make matters worse, it was true— all true, nobody loved him. Not his parents, not his friends, come to think of it, he didn't have any real friends. Not even the girls he slept with cared about him. He just stood there frozen and thought to himself.

_I will not let her see that what she said hurt me. I cannot show my vulnerability to her._

 

Before he lost his cool composure, Malfoy sauntered over to the door.

 

"Whatever, Granger, I have more important things to do than talk to you. Go ask for an extra assignment or something."

That had probably been Malfoy's lamest comeback ever, but there was nothing to be done. He had no other words for this bushy haired girl, who had flabbergasted him and broken his heart.

*

****

*Flashback ends*

* * *

Hermione remembered the look of terror on Draco's face when she said those horrid words to him. She had wondered why a few words had affected him so, and now she knew why. She felt guilty for dragging his father into their argument. She could've sworn that she noticed his eyes water a little bit when she had said those nasty things to him, but perhaps she just imagined it.

Oh God, she hadn't meant to hurt him so much. She was just angry and didn't think words mattered to him, but apparently they did. Perhaps Draco Malfoy wasn't the Slytherin Ice Prince that everyone presumed him to be. Perhaps she had been too rash in writing him off as an unfeeling bastard. So many different thoughts were flying through her mind, and finally, Hermione— the girl who always kept her cool—even when faced with life and death situations, lost the fierce battle with herself. She couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and for the first time in a long while, Hermione let out angry, silent tears as she read the rest of Draco's letter.

 

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_  
I always think about that day when you told me the truth right to my face. No one has ever done that before. You were right. I am a horrible, cold, unfeeling person who doesn't deserve to live, let alone be loved. I'll always remember what you said to me. That was the day reality set in. I always avoided the truth because I was afraid, but the truth always comes out in the end. The truth is that I don't have a heart, and if by some miracle I do have one, then its defected because I can't feel anything except hate._

_Be that as it may, I don't hate you or even Potter and the Weasel. Actually, I am quite fond of you. Girls used to be just an object to me, but not anymore. You made me see that girls are very intelligent, and there's more to at least some, then just make up and fancy dress robes. You are different than any girl I have ever met. I have thought a lot about you since what you said to me. In fact, I think of you very often. I'm not implying that I have feelings for you because I'm not even sure myself. It's very hard for me to sort out my feelings. Rather, my wish is for us to get to know each other._

_You are the most interesting person I have met at Hogwarts. I know, that after the way I treated you, you don't want anything to do with me. I completely understand, besides, it wouldn't work out anyway. My father would kill me if he knew I had you as a friend. However, I 'd like you to consider what I said in this letter. I really hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Please Hermione, this is my last wish. I'm not going to be around anymore, so at least you'll be able to have one fond memory of me._

_Goodbye forever, Hermione._

_I wish you well in all of your future life's endeavors. I have no doubt that you will be successful in whatever you chose to do._

_Please, do one last thing for me. Being the Gryffindor do-gooder I know you are, I have no doubt that you will do as I ask of you. In the big envelope, I've enclosed three letters, one is for Potter, one is for the entire Weasley family, and the last is for Longbottom. Please deliver these letters to them; this is my final wish. If you do this for me, I'll be able to rest in peace. Thank you for your help in advance._

_Sincerely,_

**Draco Lucius Malfoy**

 

 

************************************************************************

* * *

As Hermione finished reading the letter, her eyes started to swell up again. Even though she knew she was being stupid, she still felt partly responsible for Draco's decision to take his own life.

_Why did I have to say those awful things to him? Yes, he always made fun of me, but still, I had no right to insult him that way. I'm just a horrible person. I'm going to be responsible for the death of another human being. I don't care if he's an insensitive, arrogant, devious, bastard…who is no better than vermin. He still doesn't deserve to die. I have to stop him!_

Hermione wasn't sure what to do; she didn't know whom to tell. She finally decided not to tell anyone and to see if she could sneak on the Hogwarts Express and go to Malfoy Manor. She had to speak with Draco and try to talk him out of killing himself. But how? She needed someone who cared about Draco to go with her. She thought long and hard about who to ask for help, but the only name she could come up with was Professor Snape. There was no way she would ask him for help.

No, she would just have to do this herself.

_Poor Draco_ , she muttered to herself.

_I can't believe I'm actually feeling sorry for Draco Malfoy. I can't believe I'm going to risk my life to help that wanker._

_Oh God, what am I doing?_

Hermione had said she wanted adventure in her life again; well, be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. One minute she was going to spend another boring Christmas holiday at home, and the next, she's sneaking off to Malfoy Manor on a secret rescue mission to save her worst enemy.

* * *

**To be continued…**

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 **Author's Note:** Okay, so what did everyone think? I know that it's another cliff hanger, but I couldn't help it. I promise no more letters, at least for a while. This isn't going to be an epistolary fic...lol. Anyway, I hope to update again soon. But since you can't add a story alert on this site(at least I don't think you can), if you want me to update you when I post a new chapter I will. Just leave me your email in a comment and I'll be sure to send out a mass email for all future updates. Thanks again for reading and if anyone wants to volunteer to beta that would be very helpful. 

Cheers.

~ **Red Headed Slut**


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